Thursday, July 31, 2008

So I kind of accidentally volunteered to go to Vegas for the day. For work. And I don't mean on a private jet wearing spandex, sitting across from Janice Dickinson and getting paid by the hour. I mean flying commercial wearing sensible shoes, up at 5 am, home by 9pm, walking a trade show all day long with my new boss.

We have already established that I don't do well with small talk. And so it seems that spending 12+ hours with my new boss is asking for some sort of awkward. I cannot help but imagine us walking down an aisle of goods at around 4pm when my sugar levels start to plummet. I will be nervously filling in the silence with nonsense, trying to impress. You know, ROI this, margin that, market trend vagina analysis comps cock and balls quotes for tooling and development timeline, should we get this produced in China or just go do some blow in the bathroom stall? Wait a minute, did I just say vagina? Cock and balls? Supercalifragalisticexpialidocious. And I have never even done coke but that is what I am afraid Vegas will do to me, all that time to meander and fill up space with someone I hardly even know yet. I am afraid I will blurt out the inappropriate, wear the wrong shoes, that the air-conditioned convention center will give me a chill.

I have a headache from laughing too hard and choking on a Wheat Thin. Hope you had a great time. I'm sure the tradeshow was too loud for him to hear what you were saying anyway. Where'd you get the hot pic of BG?

Hi, I'm Susannah and I love shiny things, swimming, the smell of fresh cut grass, orange blossoms and horse shit. The feel of my children's eyelashes on my cheek is a live virus that grows in me, multiplies and sustains. I will never understand Amish Friendship Bread.

I write for love but money works, too. Email me for more info, or just to say hello.
susannah.ink@gmail.com